Looking Headlong Into Service
by mimirshead
Summary: Super Hero Au. A collection of shorts piled together. The team didn't really come together, so much as it fell together. Kilik once likened it to the way the Avengers formed. Everyone else told him that was a stupid analogy. Rated M for future violence
1. Better Start Running

The echo of the empty drums hit the world around him like little clashes of thunder. So loud, and so disruptive that he had to remind himself it was only the angered beating of his heart. He took a deep breath, and leaned back against the wall, trying to distract his ears with the noises electricity made jumping between his fingers.

There was a kid back there in pretty bad shape, and it was his fault for loosing control, but he tried not to let himself think to hard on that. The guilt was already too hot, and heavy in his stomach.

Worse than that though was the fear. The fear that they'd know now, and they'd come looking for him. His parents had warned him all his life to keep it under wraps. "Don't let the world see." "Your secret. No one has to know."

His hands crackled with nerves, singeing the air around them, contracting the muscles in his arms hard with their voltage. Discharge. He closed his eyes, and tried to drown out the voices in his head telling him how badly he'd fucked up. Tried not to wonder which branch would find him first. The one that would kill him, or the one that would enlist him.

"Shit."

Shit was right. His mother would scream, when he came home, but his father would just glare. Another breath.

"Fuck."

Fuck may have been more accurate. This was his life. All of it ruined. He bit his lips hard, and tried not think about the boys internal organ under the stress of all that wattage. It wasn't fair, his mother had told him in the sixth grade two years ago, for him to fight with other kids, normal kids. She'd been right. She'd been right, and he'd been stupid letting his emotions get the better of him.

Frantically, he reached for the garden in his mind, and fell short, too disturbed by fears, and insecurities to grasp at her peaceful shadows, and lush grounds.

What would he tell them? What could he possibly say to make it better?

He wanted to cry, bit back tears by grinding his teeth, head falling against the cool brick of the wall.

"You fucked up," he could hear his momma saying in his head. "Fucked up big time. Gon' have to pay the price."

Electricity leapt between his fingers.

In his head he could see the name Black Star being added to the international watch list. Could hear the garbled orders given to swat groups to bring him in. It was January twenty second. He was thirteen years old. And his life was over.


	2. Leaving Home

Tsubaki felt the air shift that day. A gentle breeze that rolled over her body, and she knew , even before they told her, that her brother was gone. It was like a knife in her gut. The feeling that it was her fault. The blame lay in her. She cried in shame for hours, curled in on herself. Wallowing.

Her pride would never allow her to admit it, but that's what she did.

Three days later, when the blossoms on the trees were beginning to wilt, and the spring was beginning to turn to muggy summer, she packed her bags, and headed for America.

It was strict there, they didn't approve of people like her, but it also meant they had formed groups, pockets of resistance that tried to prove their worth by saving the world. She would find her sanctuary in one of those pockets. There she would be able to track her brother down.

Planes were a terrifying thing. Especially when running away from home. They were new, and unexplained. Something she'd never experienced before.

With little money, she cloaked herself in shadows, and snuck aboard. Something she knew she would always feel bad about.

In the last row, on the last seat, she huddled, feet drawn up, seatbelt fastened securely around her waist, hugging her knees. It was dark outside the window, and the runway was a line of pinpricked lights leading on forever. The road that would take her far away. Maybe she would never come back again.

The duffel bag in the overhead compartment was like a tiny apartment now, one she would carry with her wherever this plane took her. She imagined plains, with no mountains in the distance, so vast, and empty she would feel full.

Quietly, she closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, it was bright outside the windows, and the runway was surrounded by wide streets, and dust. Like some witch, or wizard had stolen Japan away from her.


	3. Missing

Soul hissed, and the room hissed with him. The sound of a collective inhale in empty space. Alone with the air, but in nothing close to silence. The deficit of company sang with him, and he felt it in his bones. It was the song of parting. Something sad, and neglected. The sound of decision. He was leaving. He was running away.

He finally understood that he didn't belong in this place. Out, above the noise a single note sang out with wafting clarity. An eerie demand that as soon as his legs could carry him, he run. Run fast. Run far.

"Take yourself from this place," a voice sang soft in his ear. A lulling, bluesy whisper beneath the weight of the rest of the piece.

Tentatively, a nurse pushed her head through a crack in the door, and the sound abruptly cut off, tendrils of music shooting back into his body painfully, making him groan. She looked confused for a moment, before she quietly approached.

Her hands rang in little circles before her. Her brown hair was tied up in a bun. He regarded her coldly, wary of her company, unreceptive to her presence.

"You didn't hear anything, did you love?" she asked.

"Nnn," he said softly aground the wires in his jaw, and she nodded.

"Right. You just get some rest then."

The door closed, and so did his eyes. Behind them he saw images of a family with one son. A violinist at the top of his class. He saw the image of a boy's face on a milk carton, sharp teeth bared.

"Missing"

That's what he'd be. Missing. Far away from all their shit. All their expectations. His fingers curled. Hands that had never fallen pray to the violence the rest of him had. His only worth in this world.

The music in the room surged, making him feel complete. Making him feel as if he wasn't alone anymore.


	4. Come With Us Please

The pencil had burst to pieces in Kilik's hand, spraying shards of wood over him, and his desk as the teacher jumped back.

"I didn't want to do it," he said through clenched teeth, eyes wide, and nostrils flared beneath the hard line of his eyebrows. "I'd rather play video games, and watch porn."

It had been mistake to sit at the front of English class that day. Especially seeing how Ms. Gutierrez seemed to have it out for him. "It's because I'm black" he'd told the counselor earlier that week. A charge of racism had been filed against her, and she'd gotten a warning from the principal. No one else had thought it was funny.

Right now, she looked terrified. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but what he did know was that he really should have kept his head down. Weird things tended to happen when he got angry. Like pencils exploding in his hand, or locker his door getting bent out of shape when he slammed it closed. He'd been nabbed for destruction of property about nine times in the last month. Not his fault he had a temper.

"I'm writing you up," she said haughtily.

The desk splintered as his hand came down on it. There was a collective gasp from the other kids in the room as they tried to scoot away from him without getting up out of their desks.

Kilik's body vibrated with the need to move, and move now, as if staying still just wasn't an option anymore. His glasses itched on the bridge of his nose, and his clothes itched on his back as he rose from his seat.

"I don't need you to write me up," he said, yanking his backpack off the floor. "I can go to the office myself. I can get suspended again on my own. And I'm never gonna turn your stupid homework in! I leanrt this shit in second grade!"

Ms. Gutierrez took a step back from him as he started walking out of the room.

"And tell the school to not bother billing my momma. Her money's got "better places to go"," he threw over his shoulder.

He hadn't done his homework for a good year, and he wasn't about to start again now. He didn't have the time. What he did have though were a baby brother, and sister that needed him, and a mom that was too zoned out most of the time to care about it.

He skipped going to the office, and instead took the courtesy of sending himself home early for a little R and R before he had to walk over to the Elementary school to get Jake, and Jes.

The knock came on the door at 2:40 pm, just as he was tugging his jacket on, and getting ready to go.

"Are you Kilik Rung?" a man with red hair asked. He nodded stupidly.

"We need to talk to you about the property damage you've caused at school. If you'd come with us."


	5. Walk Away

Chapter Text

Kim realized she was screwed six ways to sunday a bit too late. The leaves on the trees were just beginning to poke through, and the rain was just stopping when it happened. Such an abrupt thing, at such a perfect time when everything was starting to look up.

She had had good feelings about that spring. The compound they lived in was just right, and her mother's were getting along again. Everything had seemed fine, and then it all fell down around them.

Supers weren't allowed to gather in numbers, and even though they'd been discrete before, they'd gotten cocky.

Worse was she missed the raid. She missed everything, and came home to an empty field with the remains of their walls, and their homes standing like old ruins. The groceries she'd gone to get seemed so trivial then, and the eggs- because their chickens had been dry for two days- ended up broken on the ground with the butter, and the coffee creamer coagulating into one big mess.

Then she'd been on her own. Reality had hit just a little too late. The rubble at her feet had once been a garden, and now all the things they'd planted there were gone, ground into the soil like no one had cared that they may have needed those for food.

She stepped through what had once been a wall, and her feet crackled on broken children's toys. She didn't recognize them. Too battered, and broken, but she could tell who they belonged to. Everything was a mess. Her toes curled in her boots, and her breath caught in her throat as she tried to hold back tears.

Everything was-

Gone.

Like the wind had come through, and just picked it up, blowing it all away to some far off place. She had spent her whole life here, and it was gone.

Her room wasn't even a room anymore. The foundation remained the only thing to tell her where the walls had stood. Her bed was missing a leg, and the mattress had been dragged into the dirt. She dug through all of it, trying to find things she loved. Toys she'd played with. She found her old teddy bear. Her mother's had sewn it together from old scraps, but it was torn in two. Useless.

Her clothes were the only really salvageable thing, them, and a bag, she shoved everything she could in there, the two halves of the teddy bear, skirts, pants. A parka that was just a bit too small. Then she dried her tears, stood up, and walked away.

There was nothing left. Everything was gone.

The only thing she could do was move on. Try to find her family. Though they were probably dead. Those that resisted tended to end up that way.


	6. Up In Smoke

Jacqueline Burned the house down. A simple fight with her father, and she burned the house to the ground. Sent it up in smoke by screaming at him through the door. No one died, but her dad had third degree burns on his face, and he would never look the same again.

He wouldn't ever look at her the same again either.

Because she'd burned the house down.

The hospital was cold, but she didn't really try to warm herself. Instead, she focused on her toes, digging into the bed. For whatever reason, the fire hadn't burned her. Of course that seemed to mean absolutely nothing as she was still there, with an IV in her arm, and her clothing folded over a chair.

The nurse had told her her father was awake an hour ago. That her mother and little brother had come to see him. No one had come to see her though. Fear gripped her by the throat, and squeezed hard, cutting off her air, and making her heart flutter frantically in an attempt to stay alive.

A lot of people spoke of this mysterious point in depression, and anxiety where they just stopped caring. She wished for that, but for some reason could not attain the height. Instead she was drawn down into the depths of a gasping, nasty monster.

She thought about it all, and her skin burned with some unnamable emotion. An embarrassment so deep it made her crave death. Made her ashamed of herself, and who she was, and what she was capable of.

Jacqueline held her breath, and tried to stop the fire in her lungs, but there were footsteps in the hallway, and there was a panic creeping up on her that couldn't be assuaged. The door opened, and men in flame retardant suits with big letters stepped through holding guns. It was the last thing she saw before it all went up in smoke.


	7. Failed Plans

Harvar had had a plan. It wasn't a very good one of course, because if it was, he wouldn't have been there, but that meant nothing in the face of the fact of his having a plan to begin with. Of course though, everything had sizzled out, and spiraled downward.

And now he was locked in the basement, with a blue haired kid leaning ominously over him.  
"You tryna rob me, boy?" The kid asked. He spoke in an American creole that felt entirely out of place coming out of his mouth because he was sort of tiny, and very asian.

Harvar didn't say anything. Instead he let a silence fall like the dripping from pipes over the boy's shoulder. He looked at the water on the floor slowly moving toward him, and realized, he had another plan.

"You tryna take my stuff? What I even got that you want?"

The water inched along the floor, and Harvar's fingers twitched impatiently.

"I'm thirteen, and stranded in a good for nothin' house in the middle of some crazy tits city, what makes you think I got stuff nice enough to steal?"

He reached out with his pinky, and tapped it into the wetness that had crawled from beneath the other kid's feet. The room lit up with lightning, sparking violently, and then everything went dark again.

"Aow," The kid said, staring at his shoes. "You shocked me. Sonufabitch. I'll shock you back!"

Clearly Harvar hadn't thought that one all the way out, because the boy's hand snaked out, and caught him by the clavicle, releasing a series of hard, and unpleasant shocks into his chest. His heart did an odd little dance, and his body went tense, but nothing much more happened.

All the failed plan of escape got him was the information that this kid was a super, who could shock him back, and had a ridiculously high constitution as he was able to shake off what should have amounted to a lightning strike's worth of voltage running rampant through his body.

"You livin' anywhere?" the kid asked, brows drawn down over green eyes that should have been brown, and lips pursed hard.

Harvar shook his head.

"Then come on up fer breakfast. We havin' eggs, and pancakes. You try'n steal something tho, and I will headbutt yer nose up inta yer brain, you hear?"

Harvar nodded, and the rope around his wrists was untied.

Maybe things hadn't gone so badly after all.


	8. Moving House

Maka moved in three days after Black Star did. Her father thought it was a good idea. Something necessary considering the fact that things were starting to crack down, and Black Star had already blown his cover.

Her bags felt heavy in her hands weighed down by her mother's distance, and her father's insistence. For the best, he'd kept saying. She sighed, and rang the doorbell.

Black Star opened the door like a suspicious chihuahua, eyes narrowed before his face cracked into a grin that was so bright it could have blinded Ray Charles. His hugs were just as hard as they'd ever been, and he talked just as fast, words bopping happily along as he pulled her through the front door.

"Missed you! Missed people period! Ain't seen nobody in days. Nygus ain't talkin' to me, and Sid's been busy at work, so I'm all on my onesies. Not that that's bad or nothin'! I'm great company, but it's sort of a crime to lock up a star so no one else can see it, nahmeen? You want some tea?"

"It's good to see you too, Bart," she said when he paused looking for her answer to the question about tea. His face collapsed into annoyance so fast she couldn't laugh long enough. Maka had known Bartholomew Barret for as long as she could remember, and for as long as she could remember he'd been insisting that his birth name was Black Star, and that he wouldn't answer to anything else.

"I will end your life, little girl," Black Star said, yanking her bags out of her hands, and thundering up the stairs with them. She followed, and he lead her all the way to the end of the hall where there was a nice little room set up with her name on a plate on the door.

"We supposed to get more kids soon. Say they wanna start a team so we gots something to do with ourselves."

"Yeah," she said, looking around the room as Black Star dropped her duffel, and backpack on the purple comforter. The bed bounced with a squeaky spring sound. "Crime fighting."

"We're gonna rock this town, just you wait!" He exclaimed.

"About that tea."

Black Stars eyebrow hit his hairline. "Yeah that. I'll get it," and he rushed out the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts while the water boiled.

She sat down on the bed, and looked at her hands. How was she supposed to fight crime when she couldn't even manage middle school?


	9. An Anomaly

Liz, and Patty had been on the streets for four years when they ran into him, rich as rich ever got in a custom suit, talking on a smart phone with a number combination lock brief case. Robbing him had been the only sensible thing to do. After all who walked around like that this late at night in this part of town.

He hadn't even flinched when they pressed the gun to his throat.

"You're something else, aren't you?" he asked casually as Patty did her intimidating laughing bit off to the side. Liz glared into his stupid face, trying to ignore his impossibly colored hair.

"Shut up, punk." She felt something in her tighten, and her arm slammed into the wall, making it shudder, and crack out from her knuckles. She tried not to be surprised by it this time. Tried not to show how much that had scared her.

His calm gaze panned over to her fist, looking like he could see things no one else could. "So you're the anomaly," he said.

"What the fuck'd you call me?!"

"You're the shifting in the veil my father sent me to find."

"I will shoot your smart ass head right off your shoulders if you don't shut the fuck up!" She hissed at him.

"Go ahead then," he said, face showing the first bit of emotion it had all night, lips quirking up into an odd, almost not even there, smile.

There was a deafening sound, and she blinked at the red that coated the wall as his head went flying back. She didn't pull the trigger. She could have sworn she didn't pull the trigger. Patty wasn't laughing anymore. What had just happened?

The boy made a sound, head rolling back forward as the hole in his chin started to close up, blood easing back into his veins.

She jumped back as he inspected his clothes. "As expected. This suit is ruined," he said, thumbing at the lapel where there was some invisible speck of something that wouldn't come off. Annoyed he ripped the jacket off, and dropped it on the ground.

"Now, if you would come with me, please," he said as Patty made an awed sound, and reached for his face. Liz caught her sisters wrist before she could make the mistake of touching the unnatural monster in front of them.

"Just what the fuck are you?" He looked at her blankly, unimpressed as ever with her posturing.

"Nothing really," he said. Calm. Calm like nothing could ever matter. "But you, are a medium, and there for you need to learn the rules, and how to control yourself."

"Fuck you, I am a size small, you dick."

He chuckled quietly. "Not that kind of medium. This way please."

"You can't make me go anywhere. Not now. Not ever. And especially without my sister."

He turned, and cordially bowed to Patty before picking her up like she weighted nothing, and throwing her over his tiny shoulder. Patty screamed a gale of giggles, and kicked her feet.

"Now if you would be so kind," he said, and Liz nodded, pale faced, hoping he wouldn't hurt them. Knowing she couldn't really say no.


	10. Keep Your Head Down

Oxford found the frequency of a bumble bee. He found several algorithms for similar things actually, and casually told his science teacher about it. Big mistake. The next thing he knew there were cops everywhere, and he was being asked for.

So he quickly packed a backpack, and climbed out his bedroom window.

It was a quiet night, and the fireflies made calming, buzzing sounds as he walked down the sidewalk. It made him feel surreal. As if this wasn't really happening, and he wasn't really running away from home.

Who did something like this so calmly? Who had this happen to them. He stared at the ground as he went until he heard heavy footsteps clomping along behind him. His back pack bumped against his spine as he ran, sneakers complaining as they slammed into concrete.

There was a pit of nervousness caught up in his throat as the wind whipped through his hair, but it didn't keep the laughter down in his stomach. It still came bubbling up into the night for seemingly no reason, sprouting out of his mouth like vomit. Lying about how he felt.

His thighs, and calves ached when he finally stopped, and his stomach was killing him, a burn like alcohol kindling beneath his tongue, and down his throat. Night was really taking hold then, and though the bricks of the buildings, and the stone of the walks were still hot with absent sun, the air was cold.

He leaned down with his hands on his knees, and laughed until he cried, because he didn't know what else to do, and he felt lost even though he knew the streets. He'd memorized all of them by the time he was two. In his mind he could see the map of the city, spreading out, and out.

What would he tell his parents? Would they track him? Would they give up, and think he was dead? Why were they after him?

He remembered his second grade teacher telling him he was too smart, whispering quietly that he should keep his head down. "Pretend to be normal, Ox. It's not good to be unique in America."

Oxford's IQ had scored in America's top percentage when he took the test online at twelve. He was a genius. How could he have been so stupid?


End file.
